


Moirae

by STABrielle (Zyrielle)



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Child Vergil, Orphan Vergil, Switched Lives, Vergil Centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-10-14 01:57:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20592776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zyrielle/pseuds/STABrielle
Summary: That day, if our positions were switched, would our fates be different?Would I have your life, and you mine?~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Come here.You need to hide Vergil. No matter what happens you mustn't leave.I need to find Dante.I promise I'll be back.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~That 'What if" turned into a story.





	1. That day, if our positions were switched,

**Author's Note:**

> The Moirai (Moirae) were the three goddesses of fate who personified the inescapable destiny of man.

+

+

+

+

"Come here. 

You need to hide Vergil. No matter what happens you mustn't leave.

I need to find Dante.

I promise I'll be back.

I know this is hard.

You must listen to me.

Be a big boy, a man, huh.

If I don't return, you must run, by yourself - alone.

You must change your name.

Forget your past and start a new life as someone else.

A new beginning…

Dante!

Where are you Dante?"

_ Screams _

\+ + + + +

He startles awake. Sweat coats his skin and makes his clothes cling to his back and chest.

Pale grey eyes squint as they take in the dim pre-dawn light creeping in through the windows.

The usually stoic and smooth face is marred with sleep lines and he grimaces as he sits up. His arms, heavy and numb, fall to his sides. The sensation of pins and needles soon overtake them as blood once again pumps freely into his upper extremities.

The muscles on his back protest when he tries to move them, a consequence of him falling asleep over the desk for the umpteenth time. It has become such a familiar habit that it rarely bothers him anymore. The old study is as familiar to him as his bedroom. The book that served as his pillow was laid out in front of him, pages dog-eared and spine much abused. The information he gleaned from it is nothing new. But perhaps there is something he has missed, a line he's overlooked, something that would help him find-

Church bells ring in the distance, calling devotees for the first service of the day: mostly housewives and a select faithful few who get their prayers done before setting about their day.

He gets up and leaves the study, figuring that he can get at least an additional hour of proper rest in his bed before he needs to go to the university.

\+ + + + + +

"---gil!"

His head snaps up and he sighs at the figure running after him. Despite the fact that he tried so hard to keep his distance and maintain an aloof manner, some humans simply have no sense of self-preservation and insist to get close to him anyways.

The man calling after him turns out to be one of his professors. Tuning out their courteous babble is almost second nature to him. But he'll listen enough just to be able to pick out key words and respond appropriately.

"…the brightest student the university has seen in years… literally choose any field of study… law, medicine, science… graduation exercises were just around the corner… will your family be attending… I would love to meet…"

Seriously, the nerve of some people. At times like this, he wishes he could pull out the Yamato to cut this human down and escape, but that would not do. He has an image to keep up, at least until he gets his diploma and transcripts.

The absence of chatter indicates that a response is expected. He glances at the professor who is looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He was right.

"My patrons will not be attending, unfortunately. Mr. and Mrs Alighieri are both currently overseas."

The response was deemed sufficient and the man goes on talking as if he's never stopped.

"…happy to write you a letter of recommendation… department would welcome you with open arms…shame you've chosen to study religions and demons… wasting your brilliant mind…should focus on other more useful things... another reported sighting of that white haired demon-"

That catches his attention.

"When and where was this?" He asks with an expression that gives no leeway for funny business and a tone that commands urgency.

"J-j-just this morning, a little after midnight. There were a drunk students who said they'd seen that bald scholar with a scar on his face talking to a white haired man with a red coat. If I'm not mistaken he's-"

"Thank you, Professor." The dismissal he gives the older man is swift, cold and detached. 

His strides are long and measured, pace hurried yet graceful. The tail ends of his coat billow behind him, as well as the scarf wrapped around his neck. The cold doesn't really bother him, but the effort is necessary to blend in. He's taken the necessary precautions to hide his identity, changing his name like mother told him to. He even went as far as to darken his hair.

His quarry however, took no such precautions.

The white haired man was initially sighted in Fortuna, sniffing around the Order of the Sword. A man of such features was very hard to miss and he has been looking for a very long time - ever since that fateful night to be exact. 

The only reason why he didn’t go as soon as he'd heard was that he was told that his target did not stay.

And now he's been seen, here, in Redgrave.

_ Mother died looking for you, and I won’t stop until I find you. _

" I won’t let you get away this time, brother." He swears under his breath.

+

+

+

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the lovely [Caillieach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caillieach/pseuds/Caillieach)
> 
> Helped me with the name too!
> 
> She's the best. UwU


	2. Would our fates be different?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief look at what Vergil went through after the fire.

_ I need to find Dante _

_ I promise I'll be back _

\+ + + +

Vergil never believed, even for a second that Dante was dead. He looked at the evidence, looked for traces again and again and again. His mother's blood stains and charred remains were all over the ruins they once called home. But Dante? There was not a single trace, not a speck of blood, no signs of struggle, not even a strand of hair or a shoe left behind.

No matter what everyone else told him, he simply believed that his other half was taken.

Their bond was strong enough that Vergil would know if his brother was truly gone from the world. He already had the uncanny ability to sense if his brother was hurt or injured since childhood. Surely he would feel it if Dante was ripped from existence.

And so he searched. All those years, he never stopped looking.

After a few weeks of searching high and low, with no leads, not a single clue to pick from the ashes, following scents that had long faded and driving himself insane with the possibilities, he stopped and stepped back. There was not much he could do for Dante as a wandering orphaned child, so he planned. Vergil came to the conclusion that the only logical thing for him to do at that point was to get adopted.

This would solve both his problems of keeping his identity secret and give him the resources he needed to continue looking for his brother. And for that, he would need to choose his next family very carefully.

He knew of an orphanage that was of good reputation-if only because of the multitude of rich families that sponsored the institution. That and the children performed in their social events and charity functions. People loved children, they were good for anyone's public image. This of course helped their adoption rates, which is exactly what Vergil needed.

Some things would have to be taken care of beforehand. First off, the Yamato would have to be hidden. Parting with it was not an option and he couldn't exactly walk into the orphanage with the huge katana in tow.

His father had once shown them how to keep items in aether space. Sparda kept books, weapons, artifacts, and other things that were too dangerous to put in the house in the aether dimension. Sparda promised to help them master using it when they were older. Dante learned it by accident when he had stolen a book of Vergil's and they were wrestling over it. To Dante's wonder and Vergil's utter horror, the beloved book vanished in the younger twin's hands. That was one of the few times Vergil truly wrestled his younger brother in earnest and gave Dante more than a just a broken nose.

Dante was made to vow to never vanish Vergil's things again by a distraught Eva, and the book was returned after Sparda coaxed Dante into giving it back. The only thing Dante was allowed to store in there were toys and candy.

_ It should be easy enough, _he thinks

The Yamato was a head taller than him and no matter how hard he tried, the sword flickered, but stayed in his sweaty palms. His fingers trembled as he clenched them: one hand around the smooth black saya, and the other around the white tsuka. It was a thing of strength and beauty, its weight, heavy. 

_ It might be wise to start with something smaller. _He tells himself as his fingers trace the intricate tsuba and the intricate dragon on the kashira. 

It took Vergil approximately 3 weeks to learn to hide and retrieve the Yamato at will. 

Next on his agenda was fixing his appearance. Snow white locks were not commonplace and attracted too much attention, so he 'acquired' some organic dye and darkened his hair to a shade of nondescript, ashy brown. He loathed the thought of needing to repeat the process every few days to keep his natural hair hidden. 

_ Dante might not recognize me from afar but he should know me up close. _

Once satisfied, he brushed off his shorts and boots and tried to fix his shirt as well as he could.

_ Mother would be horrified. _

His clothes were whatever he could salvage from the fire. He had not yet exactly learned how to wash clothes on his own but was trying to make do. That being said, he certainly looked dirty enough to be considered a street rat. He needed a backstory and an alias too of course.

After much contemplation, he finally deemed himself ready. Vergil brought himself to the big wooden door of the orphanage, lifted the heavy brass door knocker, and knocked.

A middle aged man with silver sideburns, a stiff expression, and a Butler's uniform answered the door.

He peered down his nose at the dirty boy with hair the color of ashy mud, standing ramrod straight, looking back at him defiantly. He scrunched his nose up at the sight. 

"Can I help you, young sir?"

Vergil bristled. He had prepared for this, but this man didn’t exactly exude a child-friendly feeling.

_Step one: Cry._ He knew that humans were weak to children's tears.

But gods, for the life of him, he never could cry easily. He was always baffled how Dante could produce tears so quickly and at such a fast rate that he could soak his own shirt in seconds. 

So instead, he used his trick when Dante was guilty of something and Vergil would play on his injuries so that the younger twin would get a worse punishment.

Vergil bit his lips, clenched his cheeks and fists so hard he turned red, he also did this wide-squint with his eyes, furrowing his eyebrows, clenching the muscles around his face so hard that they twitched and his eyes watered. His shoulders bunched up close to his ears in a defensive manner and it almost looked like he was going to pop a vein and have a stroke in the process all the while rearing to release a temper tantrum that promised massive destruction.

Dante said he looked like he was holding in diarrhea, but damn it worked on their parents.

That's exactly what he was doing now, and he was sure a huge part of the redness and heat from his face was from embarrassment. He'd never done this in front of anyone else besides his parents and Dante and he wouldn't be able to keep this up before shame overwhelmed him.

The tall greying man only continued to watch him with an expression that was reserved for things that crawled out of gutters while waiting for a response. 

_ Damn him. _ Vergil thinks, _ I should have mastered the arts if crying before- _

Suddenly the stoic statue of a butler is pushed to the side by an impatient hand.

"Arctus! Can't you see that the child is upset? Come here you poor little thing." The high shrill voice is nasal and heavily accented, grating a bit on his nerves, but not entirely unpleasant.

The plump woman kneeled in front of him and wrapped him in a hug.

This was… unexpected. Vergil forgets to breathe for a few seconds. But finally he can release some of the muscles he's been clenching and releases a soft gasp in surprise.

"it's alright child. Are you lost? Hurt? Don't worry darling, we’ll help you."

She soothingly pats his back as she mouths something to Arctus.

"Come here let me have a look at you." She gently releases the hug and leans back to study him.

Vergil freezes at the lady's scrutinizing gaze. Her bony fingers go over his face, pinching his cheeks, feeling his arms and alabaster smooth skin. _ Thank demon genes_, he'd never had any scars on his knees or elbows, no matter how many times he's scraped them. 

"Such a beautiful child." She coos, looking straight into his eyes. "Such a peculiar color…"

"Th-thank you miss." Vergil blushes and fights the urge to flinch or wretch himself away from the woman's grasp.

"You may call me Lady Lenore. This man behind us is Arctus. He helps me take care of all the children around here. Tell me child, what is your name and why have you come to our abode?"

Vergil puts on an expression that he hopes displayed fear and vulnerability. He's seen Dante use this face on their mother, and hopes he's copying it properly.

"My name is A-Aidan BleuPierre. My parents and I came here by boat last month. But we were attacked by these… these monsters and they… they…" Vergil descended into a very well-practiced dry heaving episode.

This of course prompted Lady Lenore to wrap her arms around him once more as he buries his face into her shoulder.

_ This should be convincing enough, right? _

"You came to the right place mon cheri." She coos once again.

Her arms wrapped around his small eight year old frame and takes him inside.

Arctus closes the door with a heavy _ thud. _

  
\+ + + +

_ Dante would have liked it here, maybe. _

‘Like’, Vergil thinks generously. Dante has always reveled in receiving attention from others. Also, Dante would have enjoyed being here. That was because the children here were very, very competitive in almost everything.

As far as he knew orphanages were _ supposed to be _dedicated to caring for children who had no families; but this place was almost military-like in the way the children were being trained and raised.

There were classes upon classes upon classes. The subjects ranged from maths, music, arts, and even physical education. It was no different from a high end boarding school. He supposes the sponsors were responsible for this, and that parading the children were a big publicity stunt for their philanthropic work, on top of the fact that the children were taken in, sponsored to study at exclusive schools, or adopted by aging rich citizens who had no heirs to speak of.

There were fifty children, twenty eight girls and twenty two boys. Vergil was not one to judge based on appearances but all the children here were particularly attractive and gifted in one or more areas of study. He was _ almost _ worried about keeping up. 

Those thoughts were quickly dashed when he found out that their course materials were much simpler and easier than what he was used to reading in their old library. Eva had after all, been a brilliant woman and made sure that her children were well advanced in their education, much to Vergil's pleasure and Dante's chagrin.

Vergil and his brother had never been to a school, or allowed to play around other children with good reason.

Dante had been heartbroken at not being allowed to join the other children who ran around freely at the bottom of the hill where their house once stood. He does not remember, but once when they were much smaller, Dante was running around with the neighborhood children near the foot of the hill, where there was a small pond and a pile of rocks that served as a makeshift dock. One of the older and bigger kids had made called Dante a witch's son and had pushed him over the rocks. He tumbled over some sharp stones and twisted a leg before finally crashing into the water.

Vergil had been preoccupied, picking at some pretty purple flowers which he was sure was wolfsbane, if the pictures in Eva's herbology book were to be trusted. Mother had those in her greenhouse but never let him or Dante near it. He had looked up just the older child had started yelling at Dante and two seconds later, his younger twin was falling over the rocks and into the water. Vergil’s heart stopped and instinct took over as the scent of Dante’s blood tainted the air. 

In a heartbeat he was at Dante's side, pulling him out of the pond muck, trying to calm him down as the younger boy screamed in pain. Vergil's eyes focused on his twin’s bleeding leg. Dante’s sharp and jagged tibia was protruding from his shin. Knowing that their healing abilities would kick in soon, Vergil pulled his younger brother's leg straight, setting the bone in the right position as Dante continued to scream and writhe. Sparda had done the very same thing for his older son six days ago, when Vergil had a bad landing after insisting to read his book up his favorite tree. 

Vergil checked his little brother over for other injuries, feeling his arms and his head while Dante was clung on to his brother's shirt, whimpering as the pain faded and shock and cold caused his body to shiver.

Upon making sure that his brother had no other injuries, Vergil was taken over by cold, hard fury.

The other children had run off after seeing his brother was hurt and bleeding; all except the culprit who pushed Dante. He was watching them in morbid fascination as Vergil set the broken bone back into Dante's slender leg and the skin knit itself back together.

"I knew it." The boy yelled. "You're both witch spawn-" He never got to finish that sentence.

Vergil was on him in a flash, and the boy's head hit the ground with a crack. He was not dead, that alone was not enough to kill him just yet. Vergil's fists would change that soon enough.

He vaguely heard his brother's panicked cries and something pulling at his shirt, but it was all background noise.

Sparda's eldest son would make sure this pig of a child would bleed for hurting Dante and speaking of Eva that way. Vergil would bathe in his bloo-

He was suddenly yanked off his prey. Vergil was growling and snarling at his captor, hands transformed into sharp little claws, kicking and scratching at the arm that held him up. He had managed to rip the man's sleeves into ribbons when he was shaken hard mid-air. Only then did the voice register in his ears.

"-spitting hellcats just like your mother. Eva will not be pleased. This is the third outfit this month!"

Vergil stills. The tall white haired man had him by the scruff of his shirt. Dante was in tears, arms around Sparda's thigh. His father's right pant leg was in tatters as, thanks to his brother's clenching little fists and equally sharpened fingers. 

"Father stop! Make Vergil stop! Whhhuuaaaaaaaaaaaaa-" _If anyone is a hellcat, it's Dante and his infernal wailing._

"It's alright Dante. Vergil's calmed down now." Sparda's deep baritone voice was both fond and exasperated.

He sets Vergil down and wraps an arm around each boy. Only then does Vergil relax and wrap his own arms around his father's shoulders, sharp nails redacting back to normal. Before he knows it, he's overwhelmed by sobs and wailing that match Dante's own.

"Eva." Sparda says after a while. 

Both boys look up from their father's tear and snot-soaked shirt to see their mother standing over the unconscious boy on the ground.

"Mother I'm sorr-" Dante gasps.

"It's alright Dante." Their mother smiles at them softly and sighs.

"Take the twins back to the house. I'll take care of this one." Eva's tone is strained. 

Sparda hums an acknowledgement and stands, picking up his sons. Vergil is cradled his right arm, Dante on his left. He treads uphill towards home.

Vergil is told later that the boy is fine after a few healing spells and having some of his memories erased.

After that day, they were no longer allowed to play with other children. Wards and spells were placed around the house to keep people away from a wide range around their hill.

Sparda and Eva start teaching their sons about the difference between them and human children.

Dante was young and naive enough to forget what happened, but Vergil wasn’t and vowed never to forget or forgive anyone who dared spoke ill of or hurt his family.

Still, controlling himself around other children was an exercise he was going to have to get used to.

_I miss Dante._

He did well enough in academics to be placed in advanced classes. If there was one subject he didn’t excel in, it would be the singing classes. Singing had been Eva's and Dante's thing. It felt… wrong.

Unfortunately music classes were mandatory. One thing did catch his attention, a familiar and welcome sight the moment he entered the music room. Its heavy, black leather case was leaning up against a piano. He gravitated towards it, like a moth to a flame.

"Do you know how to play Aidan?" Ms. Aria, the music teacher asked.

"I was taught, once upon a time." He replied softly, fingers running over the case almost reverently.

_Memories played at the back of his head, of times spent in his father's study, receiving a small sized violin after he had fiddled with father's full sized one. _

_...old images of Sparda patiently guiding him as he squeaked out his first few notes, teaching him how to read sheet music, learning how to play Eva's songs by ear. _

He swallows a shaky breath.

"Play us something." Ms. Aria says, inquisitive.

He opens the case and breathes in the familiar scent of wood, felt, and rosin.

Trembling fingers reach for the bow and adjust it to the appropriate tightness.

A dull ache blooms in his chest as he lifts the instrument onto his left shoulder.

He closes his eyes and plays his mother's lullabies.

\+ + +

Every night without fail, he would run back towards the charred remains of their house. Walking would take him an entire day at least, but the orphanage kept a strict schedule so he had to move fast or risk getting caught. He had found and repaired a small pocket watch from their father's burnt study. Running at full speed and keeping record, it took him less and less time to move back and forth. He reveled in the wind howling in his ears, at the surrounding city and trees becoming a blur, at the fact that the people barely noticed him moving so quickly past them. 

_Speed, stealth and stamina. Let's see Dante try to beat me now. _

Eva's warding spell was still active. No human soul approached the area. It was the perfect time and place to train himself physically. There was a book he salvaged from their old library, hidden in a slot in the wall when the fire happened. It was one of Sparda's books on sword fighting styles. He read it studiously and swung the Yamato around until his arms and legs ached and his shirt was soaked with sweat. 

None of the demons returned, not even he half one he called brother.

Still, Vergil left clues, things only Dante would find.

He left a shirt-his shirt, packed and folded under a pile of rocks shaped like a rabbit head. They used to leave things for each other outside this way, buried under rocks shaped like animal heads. It wasn't noticeable amongst the rubble unless one knew what they were looking for.

He also put a handful of strawberry candy, and just so Dante would surely know it was from Vergil, some chocolate. Dante would surely find it. Dante would know to wait for his older brother to come back for him, if only the younger would somehow return.

And so every single night after bedtime at the orphanage, he came here, waited, and trained.

\+ + + +

"Good evening General Augustus." Vergil bowed politely. Lady Lenore's hand was a firm pressure on his back, guiding him in front of the said man. 

"Ah, the boy who stole the show! You played brilliantly this evening." The tall man in uniform beamed fondly at him. He had many colorful badges and stars that swayed and shone on his chest when he spoke.

"Thank you General. Perhaps I could play something for you next time." he offered. The General respected skills and confidence. Vergil had those in plenty. 

"Maybe you can grace us with an exhibition of your unique swordsmanship. You have a lot of potential, Aidan. With proper guidance, I’m sure you'll go very far." The General placed a hand on his head and began speaking with Lady Lenore.

He tuned them out. It wouldn't be a bad thing, he thinks, to be adopted by this man. He was high up in the military, had sway in government, and his name carried a lot of weight. All of that would be helpful in his search of Dante and whoever was responsible for the massacre of their mother. A major downside was that he could predict a controlling side to the General. Roman Augustus was a public figure and a certain level of exposure and public attention should be expected, and that might put a dent to his plans. Maybe he should reconsider this, but the General was his best parental candidate so far. He knows he could work with this, despite the foreseeable difficulties. 

Vergil sighs and excuses himself to get some air. Both adults dismiss him with a wave. 

There had been others who showed an interest in adopting him but he had been quick and efficient to ‘help’ them lose that said interest. 

Walking towards the balcony, he played around with future possibilities, contemplating his next steps to locate Dante, when he _ smelled _ it: the faint perfume of roses and night blooming jasmine, mixed in with the unmistakable scent of _ wolfsbane. _

**Mother. **His blood screamed.

He followed the scent to a woman with inky raven hair and a flowing white gown. The contrasting colors, olive skin, and sharp dark eyes gave her an otherworldly feel. Attached to her arm was a scholarly looking older man, with a messy riot of dirty blond curls. He looked properly bored and gave the image of man who could not be bothered about appearances. He would have been totally uninteresting if it weren’t for the number of protective wards on his person. There were so many that the man was glowing slightly in his vision. Eva had used similar wards on her sons once upon a time. The pair were also wearing charmed rings. It would not be visible to an untrained eye, but he could see the runes on them glowing faintly. 

_ Who are these people? _

Just as he was about to approach the source of the intoxicating scent and the glowing man, he was pulled back by a firm gloved hand.

“The Alighieris are known for being eccentric and their involvement in taboo arts. They have just returned from an extended expedition of some tombs in the southern desert. I am not sure Lady Lenore would want you associating yourself with that sort, Aidan.” 

_ Alighieri? Like the poet? Dante's namesake?_

“I believe all the guests here were all picked by her royal majesty and rightfully chosen. I’m sure there’s no ‘wrong sort’ in here tonight Arctus.” Vergil said, careful with his words. He wouldn’t dare do anything to mess up his chances _ now. _

_ “Mom, why did you name me after some stuffy old writer? Now Vergil’s obsessed with books and he won’t play with me. This is all your fault.” Dante whines._

_"Foolish little brother." Vergil spat back at him. _

_ Eva’s melodious laughter was the only response that the pouting children received. _

“Bartholomew Alighieri, an only son coming from a line of scholars, writers, and a handful of political figures in the past. An old family, very wealthy, but ever since he married his mysterious foreign wife, he has been rather inactive in society. No children. Certainly not bad stock, but I'm sure you can tell that Lady Lenore has higher ambitions for you.”

_Ah yes_, ever since Vergil had come to the orphanage, he had been on the receiving end of her attention. Many children vied for her favor, and for a while Vergil learned to lie low. That was until he started out-performing everyone else in his studies. That was several months ago. Vergil knew he had to get out soon, lest he be dragged deeper into the governess’ schemes. 

“I have ambitions of my own, Arctus. I should hope that the choice of who takes me in is for me to decide.” 

Arctus looks at him with calculating eyes. There was certainly no love lost between them despite the time that Vergil was under his care. 

“Is this what _you_ _ want, _young BleuPierre?”Arctus’ nasal tone is cold.

Vergil only glares back. 

_ The surname would definitely call Dante's attention one way or another, and eventually that should lead him to me. _

"You said they were eccentric. Can you tell me more?" Vergil asks, genuine interest tainting his voice.

"Mr. Alighieri was always rather taken with the occult. His father was an archaeologist and often took Bart with him on excavations. Both father and son were collectors of things that could not be explained by regular science. Olivia is a woman no one knows anything about other than she comes from overseas and has only enabled his obsession further.” 

_Overseas? How curious. I wonder what kind of books they have in their library. _

“You seem to know quite a lot about the man for someone that the lady disapproves of.” Vergil muses.

“We were once friends as students in university." Arctus responds with a tone that invites no further questions, so Vergil does not ask. 

That Bartholomew Alighieri possesses the low thrum of power, of a human who practiced the dark arts, and so did his wife, except hers was better hidden. Also that Olivia smelled of his mother’s garden was enough for Vergil to make up his mind.

"Thank you for standing with and explaining things to me Arctus. If you'll excuse me." Vergil makes his way towards the pair who were commenting on the historical paintings that lined the walls of the ballroom, particularly on how inaccurate the depictions of angels and demons were according to history books.

He walks up to the pair, introduces himself, and proceeds to tell them the names and types of each demon in the paintings, common knowledge to him thanks to all the time he'd spent with his nose buried in Eva's and Sparda's books.

Bart and Olivia are enchanted by him on the spot. 

_It won't be long now. _

He changes his name from Aidan BleuPierre to Vergil Alighieri once the adoption is finalized. 

\+ + + +

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has not been beta'd yet.. because... ahahahhahha
> 
> I am impatient.
> 
> Also, you cannot tell me that Eva was the only witch or human with such involvement with magic and demons at that time.


	3. Liar, liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the present.  
Vergil confronts Arkham about the sighting of him speaking with the white-haired red-coated man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone ask for snippets of childhood?  
Memories?
> 
> No?
> 
> okay  
But I do like to think that Sparda had a hand in Vergil's personality. 
> 
> Not Beta'd

*

*

* 

_"You must not let your emotions overwhelm you, Vergil. _

_ Actions and decisions dictated by emotions result in hardships or failure down the road. _

_ Do you understand me?" _

_ "Yes father." _

Father repeated this lesson to him times, citing literature, mythology and history for examples of the folly of letting anger, jealousy, or love rule over logic and rational decision making.

They were in the library, Vergil with his nose buried in a book of mythology, reading a story that his father had mentioned once before. Father was looking outside the window.

Sparda was watching Eva and Dante as he was prone to do, becoming still as a statue, unmoving and unbreathing.

Vergil in turn watches Sparda intently. He puts his book down and holds his breath.

=================================================

_ It's too risky. _

_ I've talked to him several times before, what could go wrong? _

_ Those conversations were academic in nature. This is NOT academic. _

_ He doesn't even remember anyone's names. I've introduced myself to him each and every time. _

_ You're going to ask him about a man he met last night. What are you? A gossiping housewife? _

_ Why don't you send someone else to investigate? _

_ If Dante was just here, then I don't have time to waste. _

Before he knows it, he's standing in front of the Library. No more time left to argue with himself about why this was a bad decision.

He did have his human persona, this 'façade' and a story to sell if needed. It was foolproof, at least in his opinion.

Arkham was just another name, a specialist in arcane and occult studies. Vergil had indeed spoken to him several times but was put off by the man's aloof and dismissive nature. It had been quite a while since he had spoken to the elusive scholar, and he was not looking forward to doing it again, but.

Vergil waits in front of Arkham's office, offering a polite nod at the secretary.

"I'm here for Arkham. I'm from the university."

"Make yourself comfortable. I'll let you know when he's ready for you." the spectacled lady says.

Vergil mulls on his backstory while waiting. The least he could do is lie smoothly, but not too smoothly. Some humans actually find that eerie. _ Psh. _

"You can go in now." The secretary calls.

Vergil steps into the office. If he were fully human, the cold air inside the dungeon-like room would have bothered him. He could feel eyes on him, so he wraps his coat tighter around himself. It took him a while to master these human nuances, otherwise people would become wary of him for becoming a statue.

Breathe, fidget, blink, complain about the heat or the cold. Really, humans were so exhausting.

He closes the door and turns to face the scholar, and stops.

"Can I help you?" The voice asks, cold and sharp.

"Oh I apologize. It's just that I was caught off guard by… your… I'm sorry, that was rude of me." Vergil says.

"Yes. Indeed it is." Wow. This man is a _ treat _to speak with.

"It's just that you didn't have that _ scar _ the last time I saw you." That wasn't the only thing, really. Vergil did not have to feign his discomfort. The new scar covered the left side of his face and even his left eye was the color of old, dried blood.

Arkham reeked of human blood and demonic presence. This man had _ just done _ something recently-something very, very bad. Vergil had to keep himself from grimacing. This man was bad news and Vergil wanted no part of whatever dark mess he was doing. 

_Oh and there's also the matter of staying out of the radars of anyone who murdered Eva, took Dante, and burned his childhood to the ground. _

"Yes, well, the accident was recent and I am sure the physical form of my face is not the reason you are here Mr…?"

_ Lies. _You could burn asphalt in the room and it wouldn't be as suffocating as this man's aura. But Vergil's demon senses have always been sensitive to such things. He does his best to ignore it for now. 

His voice was cold and deep, accent and cadence grating on Vergil's nerves.

"I am sorry about your… accident. My name is Vergil Alighieri, a student from the university. I've been here several times for some of my papers-"

"Ah yes, I have heard of you Mr. Alighieri. Your professors and fellow students speak quite highly of you. How may I be of assistance?"

_ He knew of Vergil? Yet another reason to retreat but- _

"Pardon my boldness, but I heard that you had a certain visitor last night. His profile matches that of someone I have been looking for."

Heterochromatic eyes, cold and dead narrow in on him and the glare he receives turns piercing. If he were a lesser man, he scoffs inwardly, it would have made him cower. But he was not. Vergil refused to back down.

"Strange of you to take such interest in such rumors, even stranger that you would take interest in the said visitor. I simply must ask-"

Vergil anticipated the question. Most hunters and occult specialists had tried to warn him off his pursuit of the white haired demon cloaked in red. With good reason-wherever this man was spotted, demons and death was always involved.

"Some time ago, my fiancée and I were attacked by these… 'monsters' while we were out one night. A man with very unique features came and saved us. He left before we could speak with him. If it had not been for his help, my beloved-she would have died. She means the world to me and I would be lost without her. I must give him my thanks."

The lie is well practiced and rolls smoothly off his tongue. His expressions and emotions, mastered in front of a mirror. Did the fiancée even exist? Who knows? No one has ever met her. She was always conveniently 'overseas'.

Most who hear it question it no further. After all, hunters and scholars alike had no interest in hearing the ramblings of a lovesick man.

"I see. Curious. I've never heard of him helping anyone. Perhaps you are… special to him somehow?"

_ Abort, abort. _

"That can't be. Surely there have been more he's saved… I'm quite ordinary. My fiancée though, she is quite the beauty." He tries to put on a starry-eyed look on his face and hopes it works.

"Hmmm. Even the topics of your research have caught my… interest. You have chosen a very particular area of study, Mr. Alighieri." Vergil raised an eyebrow at that. So Arkham had been paying him attention. All the more reason to stay away, but not until he got what he wanted. His best bet right now was to try and throw the scholar off his back with his mundane backstory.

"My interest in the occult is the result of seeing all the antiques and artifacts in my father's collection. I've been obsessed with them as a child. My mother had hoped that the interest would fade away with time."

Arkham did not respond so he continued.

"One would think that my interest would die once we got attacked, but my curiosity has only grown. Although I will most likely go into travel and philanthropic work like my parents after graduation."

The lies had become so easy to tell, given that most of them were true for the identity that Vergil was assuming.

There were so many things wrong with this man. Vergil could almost feel something crawling or slithering up his skin just from staying in the office with him. Could Arkham perhaps sense him as well? But Vergil took care to hide his own aura. He'd learned the necessity of it when he'd attracted the attention of one demon too many over the years. 

Vergil Alighieri was a carefully curated and maintained identity: eccentric, with wealthy (adoptive) parents, and most importantly: boring and lovesick. He could bore or make cringe anyone with painfully boring topics or his gushing about his so called fiancée. He also made sure to keep his appearance unremarkable, in other words, dress like a grandpa. His clothes were nice, but so old fashioned. He still wore a cravat underneath his fine vests and coats.

And oh how he would milk that backstory. He should have gone into acting instead, he would have killed so many roles but alas. He couldn't afford to raise too much suspicion now, not when Dante was so close. 

The bald scholar's gaze shifted, turning curious but not before rolling his eyes at Vergil. 

"That white-haired man, my encounter with him is not so meaningful as yours I'm afraid. He had simply chanced upon me as I was leaving for the night. The said man was seeking directions to where he could find some hunters. I pointed him towards that cellar or bar or whatever they call that unsavory place." 

He gives Vergil a wry smile before he continues.

"Perhaps if you go there now, you might still catch him. Passed out drunk like the usual patrons."

Were it any other situation, Vergil would have taken offense to such a blatant dismissal, but right now, he was grateful. He would not spend any second longer in this man's presence than he had to.

"I see. I shall make haste then. Thank you, sir Arkham." He says.

'Vergil Alighieri' bows politely and takes his leave. The seemingly clueless, wide eyed, brown haired student leaves, oblivious to the knowing look that the scholar gives him.

Vergil knew of the cellar. It was where undesirables and hunters gathered to get jobs from agents amongst other things. He went there sometimes, under the guise of a mask and an alias.

He never stopped practicing or growing his skills and strength. Exterminating demons was the best exercise and he needed to stay sharp. At current, he was one of the top-ranking hunters under the name of--

"GILVER!" A voice calls at him from across the street. A stout man darts across the street towards him.

"Enzo." Vergil hisses in response. He has no time for his erstwhile agent. But wait. Enzo was usually at the cellar. If he was there last night then maybe-

He grabs Enzo by the arm and yanks him into a narrow alley.

"I told you NOT to call me by that name in public." He hisses. Enzo was the only one who knew his real face. And to this day, Vergil regrets that mistake.

"That guy you're looking for, I saw him. AND I know where he went." Enzo says with a smirk.

Vergil takes a calming breath. Of course Enzo knew. He was Vergil's liaison when it came to hunter business and ergo his hunt for this white haired man. Though the reasons he told Enzo were the same as what he'd told Arkham. Consistency was key after all.

"Spit it Enzo, or I throw you in front of the next moving vehicle."

Enzo laughs nervously and raises his hands in surrender.

"Alright, alright, geez. So serious. See there's this missing girl named Alice…" 

\+ + + +

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone here read the novel or the manga?


End file.
